Dяеамs: I am Hаuитеd
by Twinkle the Mountain Loner
Summary: It all started with a mistake by a StarClan apprentice, but then it slowly changed into something worse—something that will cause the unending pain of one certain warrior . . .
1. Allegiances & Prologue

**A/N: How surprising. I'm writing another fic. So, anyways, ****_Eternity of Stars _****will still be my main story, but I wanted to try this one out. It's inspired mainly by the whole JayXHalf pairing (which, by the way, I'm a huge fan of) and some of my own ideas. Allegiances and Prologue are the first chapter. Most of StoneClan is not metioned in this story, so I'm not typing the whole Clan. Hopefully ****_Dreams _****will be a bilogy (if that even exists) or trilogy. Also, I might make this my main story, but it depends on the number of reviews I get ;)**

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_The sparkling, starry cats stood before the pools of different color. _One of them boldly made a move forward.

"Here, my friends, lay the pools of destiny. Each pool is the color of the cat's pelt. And here"—he pointed his tail to an unmoving pile of rocks—"are the stones of the she-cats they belong with."

"Yes, yes," said another cat, scanning her eyes along the rocks that were carved simply, yet beautifully. "They have Honeyshade in here, too. Is this a mistake? You know she is from DreamClan."

"I know that, Greenstar," the first one said. "It is the destiny of Liontooth to have kits with her, or so I believe. When we push her stone into his pool, he'll start dreaming of them. Then he'll get swept into DreamClan himself, and when he finally wakes up, nothing will have changed except for what he knows. I will guide him from there."

"That seems all very well," a third cat said, "but you said that you _believe_ that it is their destiny, not that you _know _it is."

"It seems to me that they both are related to leaders, whether of the past or present. And you know what that means, Gorsethunder." The first cat flicked his tail.

"I, however, see differently, Harepelt." A fourth dignified-looking she-cat craned her neck to look closer at the pools. "Liontooth is not the one."

"Who is it, then, Stormystar?" asked the first one, Harepelt.

"It is more than likely to be—"

She was broken off by a small apprentice running straight into the stones.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I was late for the meeting!" she panted, looking around. "What's going on?"

Stormystar turned around to explain to her, but the other three cats were staring, transfixed, at a pool and at the rock slowly sinking into it.

"No!" Harepelt wailed, "it's falling into the wrong pool!"

All of them stared at each other, thinking the same thing.

_Because of this, a cat will have a destiny that is not his . . . . a cat will have a destiny that is not his, and the Clans might be destroyed forever._

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**Allegiances**

StoneClan

_Leader: _Daystar—Deep golden tom with lighter yellow speckles and greenish-yellow eyes

_Deputy: _Risingmoon—Silvery white she-cat with blue-green eyes _(queen; expecting kits, mate of Daystar)_

_Medicine cat: _Softberry—White she-cat with black leopard spots; deep brown eyes and a strange reddish nose

_Warriors: _Flyingfoot—Jumpy, thick-furred orange tom with brown eyes

Hollowstep—Dark gray-brown tom with green eyes

Shallowpool—Pale gray she-cat with soft green eyes

Strongblade—Muscular gray tom with orange stripes, a white hind paw, and dark blue eyes

Deerwater—Tan-brown she-cat with white spots and small, dark brown paws; clear blue eyes

Liontooth—golden tom with darker stripes and orange eyes _  
_

_Apprentice, Mousepaw; gray and brown tom with green eyes_

_Elders: _Whitecloud—white she-cat with orange-amber eyes

DreamClan

_Leader: _Nightstar—Blue-black she-cat with white speckles and dark green eyes

_Deputy: _Growlingclaw—Dark gray tom with ferocious, scary black eyes

_Medicine cat: _Cloudsight—White tom with milky, blind amber eyes

_Warriors: _Arrowheart—Pale red she-cat with mesmerizing emerald eyes

Funnywhisker—Dark solid orange tom with humorous light blue eyes _  
_

Flightbird—Friendly pale orange tabby she-cat with green eyes_  
_

Vultureclaw—Ash black she-cat with glittering, cold gray eyes

Leopardstripe—Golden-and-black spotted tabby tom with blue eyes

_Apprentice, Jaypaw; blue-gray tabby tom with green eyes_

Dewgrass—Impatient gray tom with yellow eyes

Carpfin—Brown colored tom with a tannish underbelly and amber eyes

Littletail—Small white she-cat with gray patches and blue eyes

Petalflower—Soft white she-cat with orange eyes

_Apprentice, Morningpaw; gray tabby she-cat with blue eyes_

Forestnight—Dark brown tom with light blue eyes

Sunriver—Golden tabby she-cat with green eyes

Runningfoot—Gray tom with amber eyes

Honeyshade—Pretty white-and-ginger she-cat with luminous pine-green eyes

_Queens: _None

_Elders: _One-ear—Scraggly brown tom with a torn ear and gleaming yellow eyes

Birdwing—Dark yellow she-cat with brown eyes

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**A/N: It took me HOURS to come up with all the names, let alone the descriptions and Prologue. So, anyways, R&R, and I'll update as soon and as fast as possible!**


	2. Chapter I

**A/N: So, everything is still pretty mysterious, isn't it? And I'm afraid that it will remain so for a while.*cackles evily* So, here you are, and enjoy! (Don't forget to read and review as well, while you're at it.) Also, this certainly doesn't seem anything like Jay's Wing and Half Moon, but I assure you it was inspired by that.**

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**Chapter 1**

_He was running, but from what, he did not know. All he knew, all he thought of, were his paws thumping on a hard, uneven surface. It gave him a small bouncing, jolting motion that thudded all the way from his tail to the tips of his ears. Blood was in his mouth, salty and vulgar. It choked him, filling his insides with fear._

_He ran harder, faster, as if he could escape, just like that._

_Behind him, a stampede of fur and more blood and claws and teeth and yowls followed himtrail king him down like a pack of wolves._

_But they weren't wolves. They were cats . . . he had once known them, trusted them . . . and as much as he tried to deny it, loved them . . ._

_But now they were after him and his flesh, and when he boldly risked a glance behind him, they looked ready to tear him into pieces until he was a part of the earth and dust that blew up around their paws, like a small storm—_

Strongblade's head jolted up, as it did so often every night at past midnight. He glanced out from the roots to the tree at the sky. As a young warrior, he slept out near the edge; a normal Clan custom that had been done for eons of time. Strongblade winced as he tried to stretch his claws in what little room he had. After a good batch of kits last greenleaf that included him, new warriors were crowding around the edges of the den everywhere. Trying to get back the pieces of his dream, Strongblade mused some more.

Really, it had all started with Liontooth—the brother of Daystar and the temporary deputy, as Risingmoon moved to the nursery. Several moons ago, about two moons from when Strongblade was made a warrior, the warrior had woken hollow and bitter, and hadn't talked to Strongblade for a long, long time. Softberry had said it was just because they hadn't brought back much prey yesterday, and almost no one got to eat—empty bellies make cranky cats, she'd said reassuringly—, but Strongblade knew it was more. After all, the dreams had started the very night before.

All of the dreams were different. First, he had been hiding in a bush. Then, he had been prodded awake in his dream, which seemed slightly weird. After that, he no longer kept track of the dreams, only the fact that a few quarter moons ago, they had gotten seriously violent, and that he'd woken up with guilt and regret still fresh on his mind.

The urge to go to Softberry became stronger, a pounding thought in Strongblade's mind that wouldn't go away. He pushed his muzzle deep into the his mossy nest. _No. I can't. _

Honestly, he didn't know why he wouldn't just go to Softberry. But he _couldn't. _It was just a strong, strange instinct that told him to shut his muzzle and clam his emotions up in his insides, to isolate him from his Clanmates; at least until he could delve further into the dreams and their meaning. And so he stayed like that.

To the normal outsider, of course, he would seem uncanny, to say at the very least. His eyes would be vacant of any emotion, his face hardened throughout these moons of suffering in the sleeping world . . . and the waking one, as well. That clenching feeling in his stomach while he dreamed and slept and woke up every day? Feelings. That stinging pain in his gut? Feelings.

Strongblade was _used _to it. He did his duty to his Clan—hunting, fighting, patrolling—and they did their own jobs, whether it was to train like an apprentice or to heal like a medicine cat. In return, they gave him a safe refuge and food. And that, he'd decided since a long time ago, was all he needed. He didn't need love like the others. He didn't need kits or a mate or a family. From experience, he knew it was far too complicated to undergo such an emotion as _love._

_No. Never._ Strongblade had sworn by StarClan that he'd never love. And it was just merely too agonizing to add the simple word _again._

With a groan, Strongblade turned over onto his side. His other side, where a pink scar on his cheek showed, plain and fresh as daylight. But it was not fresh.

He refused to go over that piece of memory, that part of the strange puzzle to his twisted life. Strongblade simply did not tell curious kits about how he got that scar. He did not tell apprentices either, nor anyone who hadn't been there when _it _happened.

But those that had been there were a whole different case. He caught them watching him with such pity and sorrow in their eyes it hurt and made him choke. No, Strongblade wasn't a bad cat. Just . . . a cat of few feelings. It would take much more than a spark to start him loving again and living a normal life. It would take a wildfire.

Strongblade's solution of life was simple. He lived the life he wanted to live, and endured the dreams at night. That was all.

And then his eyes closed once again . . .

_Kill, kill, kill. That was now the intention of those cats, wasn't it? Strongblade raced ever fast past the forest, green and brown going past him in a blur._

_He didn't know how long he ran. Time, his precious time, was leaving by the second. It was leaking away, slowly, so slowly, as if to torture, to drive him to an immense level of madness. He had to reach the cave. He had to reach the cave . . ._

_And he made it, just barely. The cats were still hot on his trail, but with the speed of a Stoneclanner, he had made it safely._

_In front of him was a scraggly gray she-cat. She looked at him, her blue orbs boring into his pelt as if they could see through fur and skin to the soul._

_"Where's Honeyshade?" he demanded. The she-cat sighed sadly._

_"Oh, Strongblade. Love is paining you once again." She opened her mouth to continue._

"Wake up, sleepyheads!"

A mildly cheerful voice rang through the roots. Everywhere, cats mumbled protests and rolled over. Strongblade jumped up, barely escaping getting crushed by Flyingfoot, but instead bumping his head on the roof of the den.

_Great StarClan, Deerwater! _Strongblade thought angrily. _That gray cat was going to tell me something important! _Moons of learning to control displeasuring feelings made him quickly calm, along with the fact that he could go to sleep later and find out what the she-cat said. _If it isn't too late, anyway._

"I remember, I'm on the dawn patrol," Strongblade meowed with a sigh.

"I am too," Hollowstep added blearily. With a pang, Strongblade realized he was probably the only cat who didn't get sleep this night.

"Don't forget me." Shallowpool was small enough to rise and stretch in the limited space she had of the warriors' den.

"I'm coming with you," Deerwater said. "A good patrol of four this morning."

"You mean this _dawn,_" Liontooth yawned in his matter-of-fact tone. "I'm getting up to sort more patrols, you guys can go."

"Whatever." Deerwater delicately hopped out of the den through one of the larger gaps in the tree trunks. "Let's meet at the Black Berry tree."

The Black Berry tree certainly wasn't a tree with blackberries, although there were several bushes around there with the sweet fruit. The Black Berry tree itself was a tall, majestic tree with round black shapes hanging from it.

There was a chorus of agreement from the dawn patrol cats. They, as well as Strongblade, came out one by one and padded their separate ways to the Black Berry tree. Strongblade preferred walking on the rocky trail, but as long as there were little to no cats occupying the path, he was fine. He was a solitary cat, after all . . . right? While Strongblade walked up the tannish colored trail, pebbles bulging underneath his paws, he pondered more about the dream.

_Love, paining me? _he wondered. _Never. It must be just a dream. It _has _to be._

Desperation clawed at his empty stomach. It couldn't, couldn't, _couldn't _be true. But it wasn't just a dream, either . . .

Strongblade jumped down the path and realized with a shock that he was one of the first ones there at the Black Berry tree; his feet had automatically moved one in front of the other, increasing their pace as his thoughts grew more despairing.

Shaking himself, Strongblade padded up to meet Hollowstep. "Everything fine on your way here?"

"Just a bit of fox scent, but it was stale; you?"

"Nothing."

The toms waited for the others to come. Deerwater and Shallowpool did not find anything out of the ordinary.

"Let's start at the pines," Deerwater suggested. The three other cats' heads swiveled instinctively to the dark green trees. Strongblade inhaled the tangy scent of pine sap, his flanks heaving has he did so.

No important event happened during their trek around the borders, but Shallowpool had found a mouse nest. Strongblade swallowed his tiny mouse kit and muttered a quick "thanks" before snatching the mother and several left over mice to bring back to the Clan.

"We better go quickly or a fox will get attracted by the scent of fresh, young blood," Hollowstep meowed. "Great StarClan, _I'm_ liking that scent!"

Purrs of amusement came from Shallowpool and Deerwater, but Strongblade was having difficulty breathing through the mouse skin and fur. He hurried back to camp, tripping on a treetroop but stumbling back to his paws. To be honest, Strongblade didn't care about his embarrassment.

Swiftly placing his six mice—five young and one adult—on the well stocked fresh-kill pile, Strongblade pricked his ears as he heard a quarrel between Liontooth and Mousepaw.

"You promised you would train me today!" Mousepaw stamped his foot angrily, and Strongblade couldn't help but admire his boldness.

"I said nothing of the sort!" Liontooth's angry mew rang Strongblade's ears, as well as the others. They all winced. Daystar had, most likely, been put on a patrol. Ifhe had been there, he'd have been able to stop his brother.

"Yes you did!" the apprentice raged. "You said 'Don't worry, Mousepaw, I'll take you to the Pines and we can practice battle moves!" But no, it's all deputy this and deputy that!"

Liontooth roared with fury. "Wait until Daystar hears about this!"

Softberry suddenly appeared, weaving between mentor and apprentice.

"Mousepaw, please go and train with Flyingfoot for today. Liontooth, I will speak to Daystar and arrange for him to have a new mentor; in the meanwhile, you should cool down in the warriors' den."

The temporary deputy looked ourtraged that one of his cats dared give his apprentice a command and tell him what to do, but he stalked off to his nest.

Unexpectedly, Softberry's pupils began to dilate and grow larger, than repeat the pattern. Daystar walked into camp and tossed his squirrel to the side, his pelt bristling, as he saw Softberry.

"What in the name of StarClan is—"

But Strongblade didn't hear the rest of his leader's sentence, or see Softberry about to mouth her mouth. He silently collasped where he stood, curling into a ball as if controlled by something else.

And then he sailed into a whirlpool of black, a tunnel of neverending darkness that threatened to swallow him up, from his pelt to his insides.

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**A/N: 2100+ words! *faints* so anyways, there's your first chapter. This was later than expected, I kept on getting distracted by Romione fanfics xD yeah, I read HP. Anyways, you might be confused with some names, so, pointers:**

**•DreamClan has weird names. Like, for example, Funnywhisker. Pretty weird.**

**•The suffix -blade is not used often in any Clan. _But, _spoiler alert, Moonpaw will also hthe that suffix when (and if) she becomes a warrior. So you say cats don't know what blades are . . . think blade of grass.**

**•Liontooth was just a random name I came up with.**

**•Arrowheart: again, DreamClan has weird names.**

**I think that's all? So, continuing on. You were allowed to skip the first few paragraphs (not the dream, the musings of Strongblade; I bet all you people who read the whole thing are like, "now she tells me . . ."). They were there only to build Strongblade's character. **

**Secondly, I'm keeping to the mystery genre, so I won't be able to give very good random facts. For that reason, I have something new . . . Writing Challenges! You don't have to do them (but if you don't, then maybe you're a scaredy-mouse . . . *winks*), though I'd like to read what you'd do.**

**So, Writing Challenge today (or rather, writing _prompt_):**

**Imagine you OR your OC was in Strongblade's position, with weird dreaming plus a cat named Liontooth who's a temporary deputy who doesn't like you. Would you tell Softberry or not? Write how you would make your decision.**

**But, if you were thinking right away "I'll tell Softberry/I'll tell [insert name here]" (I know some of you did!), here's an idea:**

**You have the same instinct as Strongblade to keep quiet. Plus, you don't know this for sure, but maybe StarClan wants you to keep quiet.**

**Changed your mind?**

**And for you who decided to keep it a secret, whether from the start or when I gave you the first idea, think of this:****  
**

**StarClan didn't tell you to keep quiet, so you wouldn't be punished if you told Softberry. You also don't know this for sure, but maybe she knew the answer to the dreams.**

**That was long, so have a nice day, remember to review, and GOODBYE!**


	3. Chapter II

**A/N: Sooo, today we have Honeyshade's POV. **

**•No timeskip.**

**•Everything I haven't explained by the end of this series (still don't know if I can manage a 3rd book yet) will be explained in my last author's note.**

**•There is not as much character build in this (although there is some, scattered around everywhere) so you'll have a nice time reading.**

**•I _will _do linebreaks, although each chapter is only one point of view.**

**And that's all you need to know.**

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**Chapter Two**

Honeyshade licked up the last of her sparkling multi-colored dreamdust, feeling energy course through her. The sweet flavored powered filled her mouth with a pleasant taste. Her sleek white-and-dark-ginger pelt was shining in the daylight, and it rippled as she stretched. Invigorated, Honeyshade bounced up and was about to leave the camp for sone lone hunting when she was stopped by a cat.

"Want to go searching for dreamdust?" the deputy, Growlingclaw, asked. Not meeting his crow-black eyes, Honeyshade nodded.

"With who?" she asked.

"Just us."

"Never mind, then." Looking for dreamdust alone with Growlingclaw, even if he was her uncle, wasn't exactly her favorite thing to do. And Honeyshade was normally a she-cat with many favorite things.

"Fine. Funnywhisker and Flightbird will come too. Satisfied?"

Honeyshade pricked her ears at the mention of her friend and friend's father. "I suppose so," she mewed, grabbing a piece of moss from the pile nearby. The tendrils tickled her nose, and she sneezed.

"Funnywhisker! Flightbird!" Growlingclaw called. "Dreamdust patrol."

The two different-shaded orange cats trotted obediently up to Growlingclaw. Each took a piece of green moss and nodded for the deputy to lead the way.

"Growlingclaw!" Nightstar's sharp voice stopped the dark gray tom in his tracks.

"Have you finished assigning all the patrols?" the she-cat demanded, flicking aside a stray piece of moss as she spoke.

"No, Nightstar, but—"

"No buts! Do what I say, and meanwhile, Carpfin can take your place in the patrol."

Growlingclaw stuttered a protest, but he walked, his head down, to the middle of the clearing and started muttering out names.

Silently thanking her mother and leader, Honeyshade acknowledged Carpfin with a small nod and sped up her walk to a fast trot, the others following her lead. She spotted a small patch of dreamdust. After another sneeze because of the tickly moss, Honeyshade tossed it on to a pile of sparkling silver dust. Most of it scurried out of the way, but when she lifted up the moss, some of the precious substance was sticking on it, sprinkling the green with other colors.

"Nice one," Flightbird commented as she clutched her moss under her neck. With a slight difficulty, Honeyshade took her own moss. She opened her mouth and scented the air for the sugary smell of dreamdust.

There was a sudden, loud _boom. _Honeyshade looked up to the pieces of blue in between the treetops. _Thunder? _It couldn't be; the sky was as clear as water from the lake.

Funnywhisker's eyes grew wide and he pricked his ears. "Do you hear that?" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. Straining to listen, Honeyshade tilted her head.

And then she heard it.

It was a loud, deep keening sound. And then a screech! A screech and yowl. Closing her eyes briefly, Honeyshade could imagine paws flailing in a vain attempt to get out of a fox's jaws, a venom-filled yowl that was cut off abruptly by the snap of bone—

_No. _Not now. There was no fox that could break a cat's bones. There was no fox that could lick a cat's blood off of its paws. _There. Is. No. Fox._

"Something's falling!" Flightbird scurried out of the way as a gray shape tumbled down towards them. Carpfin followed Flightbird's lead and soon there was a wide berth around the spot where the thing would soon fall. As it got closer and closer to earth, Honeyshade could see that the thing was actually a cat—a gray and orange tabby tom.

The others seemed to have noticed, as Funnywhisker reached out a paw to try and break the fall, even though of course it wouldn't work.

As the gray cat fell, his head twisted and his dark blue gaze met Honeyshade's green. Frozen, she stared into the tom's eyes, which were a mixture of confusion and fear. As if drawn to him, Honeyshade tilted her head until she looked straight into the cat's face.

And even after his eyes closed and he became unconscious, the she-cat found she could not look away.

* * *

"Honeyshade! Dreamdust patrol! Is everything alright?"

_No, no it's not. Thank you for asking, _Honeyshade thought sarcastically in reply to Leopardstripe, the tom who was currently guarding the camp entrance.

"Of course it is," she mewed, contradicting her thoughts. ". . . We just . . . found a cat . . ." Honeyshade trailed off as she realized how stupid the explanation sounded.

"A cat? From where? You better get into the camp and tell Nightstar—or maybe Cloudsight—everything."

"Well, then, you three, roll him in." Honeyshade moved the vine camp-hiders to let the other cats in the dreamdust patrol through. She winced at every thump as the unaware cat's body rolled down the smooth slope in the camp. She dropped the moss into the dreamdust pile and swiftly came to the scene.

"Cloudsight!" Carpfin called. "We have a cat . . ."

The white tom hurried over—Honeyshade still didn't know how he could manage that without tripping—and reached out a paw, waving it around until he touched the cat's pelt.

"He's not a loner or a rogue," Cloudsight guessed, not taking his eyes off the body, though he couldn't see. "If it were possible, I'd guess Clan cat. Where'd you find him?"

"Er . . ." Funnywhisker began, trailing off to glance at the rest of the patrol.

"He . . . fell out of the sky?" Flightbird meowed tentatively. The rest of the cats groaned, but Honeyshade was silent.

Cloudsight's ear twitched. "I'm not sure whether I should ask Nightstar for help, go to sleep and ask StarClan, or just heal the cat."

Honeyshade hoped he'd either ask Nightstar or heal the cat. As if reading her mind, Carpfin decided, "Probably Nightstar."

The other two cats murmured their agreement, Honeyshade following. "Let's go, then."

"I'll treat the cat while you speak to her. We have plenty of extra herbs from a generous newleaf." At this, Cloudsight bounded to his den, a slight spring to his step.

Honeyshade's pace was brisk and tense as she walked to her mother's den. She could still not forgive and forget. She would never.

_Never, never, never, never—_

Funnywhisker's voice broke into her gradually darkening thoughts. "We found a cat on the patrol," he started, putting his words carefully. Honeyshade noted that the tom tried his best to avoid _how _they had found the gray cat.

"And we were wondering what to do with him," Flightbird added. Carpfin gave a nod for his part of the explanation, but Honeyshade just looked at her paws. She felt Nightstar's cool green gaze sweeping over her pelt, though she did not speak.

"Very well. I will speak with Growlingclaw and decide the fate of the cat."

Honeyshade discovered that she couldn't keep her mouth closed. "What about Cloudsight?"

Nightstar's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer; then she looked up, addressing the whole patrol. "Cloudsight would be too soft on him, but if all four of you wish for me to talk with him as well . . ." The word _all _was emphasized with a slightly nasty tone, as if Nightstar thought that not every cat would be in favor of Honeyshade's request—or rather, question.

"I agree," Funnywhisker mewed unexpectedly. Flightbird followed suit, while Carpfin stared at the ground, suddenly interested in a bit of dry brown moss.

_Please, StarClan, _Honeyshade begged. She knew that Carpfin and Cloudsight had once been inseparable brothers, but then something happened.

She didn't know what the something was.

"Well?" Nightstar prompted, with a trivial amount of impatience in her voice.

"Yes," Carpfin muttered, still not looking up.

Honeyshade heard a small hiss of displeasure, but she ignored it. Nightstar rose to her paws and called out. "Growlingclaw! Cloudsight!" Then she glanced at the patrol cats. "Get out of the den, and you can do what ever you want," she meowed. "Do not, and I repeat, _do not _say anything about this."

There was a chorus of _Yes, Nightstar, _and the sound of paws trudging through earth and scuffling up mud. Honeyshade still did not look up, although she appreciated Flightird's symphathic glance as they left.

Carpfin sidestepped so that Cloudsight could walk into the den without tripping, but other than at not acknowledging the medicine cat.

She could remember when the Clan had first discovered Carpfin's—or rather, Carppaw's—hatred of Cloudsight-slash-paw.

_Honeypaw curled up in her nest, head on her paws. She gazed out of the entrance into the dark blue night sky, the stars of Silverpelt twinkling silently above. Their fiery structures scorched her pelt__, as if the eyes of her ancestors were watching her every small move. She tore herself away from the blanket of luminous whiteness and looked at Flightpaw instead._

_"Cloudpaw and Carppaw are late again, aren't they?"_

_"Yeah. I don't know what's gotten into those two."_

_A cricket chirped. It acted like an alarm, alerting the two apprentices of the presence of another cat._

Although the memory unveiled itself in Honeyshade's head, her eyes were still inact and she was definitely conscious as she swerved to avoid the fresh-kill pile. The camp was large, and so Honeyshade had time to recollect her thoughts of the past.

_Carppaw stormed into the underground tunnel and plopped onto his nest._

_"Careful," Flightpaw meowed. "The den might collapse."_

_"I don't care!" he spat with a touch of his old defiance._

_". . . Where's Cloudpaw?" Honeypaw dared ask, then immediately regretted it as she saw the murderous look in her fellow denmate's eyes._

_"_Cloudpaw,_" hissed Carppaw, "has decided to become a stupid medicine cat."_

_Honeypaw and Flightpaw exchanged glances. The blind white tom had always had an interest in herbs, and they couldn't say it was unexpected. But why did Carppaw hate that so much?_

The question, as it turned out, could not be answered. Not yet, anyway. Honeyshade entered the warriors' den—two large, flat slabs of stone leaning on one another. The back of the den was also rock, a wall of it. It just so happened that Honeyshade slept there, and so she weaved past the bundle of scents—Vultureclaw, Dewgrass, Littletail—all the way to the end.

Flightbird went after her soon after. "Carpfin's off in the forest somewhere," she reported, settling down into the moss nearby Honeyshade. "Funnywhisker's checking on the cat."

Honeyshade looked anxiously outside. Should she have been theragin the medicine den, too? Her friend must have read her mind, because she stretched, unworried.

"Funnywhisker is only making sure he's still unconscious, under Nightstar's orders. We wouldn't want him attacking anyone or stealing our supplies."

Honeyshade was about to say that he wouldn't, but how could she know? So instead, the she-cat clamped her jaws shut and nodded mutely.

"Honeyshade!" Honeyshade jumped out of her nest as a cat called her name. Cloudsight was poking his head in the den. "Nightstar wants you to wake the cat up and bring him to the Speaking Boulder. We have decided."

_That quickly? _Honeyshade wondered. She felt the slightest twinge of fear, then confusion. _Why do you care about him, anyway? _she asked herself crossly.

"Alright. Tell Nightstar I'm going."

Honeyshade quickly made her way to the medicine den and, forcing herself to be rough, shoved the cat with a paw. Slowly, it opened its eyes.

"Where am—" Honeyshade cut the cat off with an unwilling snarl.

"You're coming with me." She did not meet his eyes. Honeyshade pushed him up to his paws. He stumbled.

Out of the den, Nightstar yowled for the cats to gather.

"Let all members of DreamClan come to the base of the Speaking Boulder for an announcement!"

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Sorry that took so long. Thank you Guest for my first review; what's all this about Bluestar? Anyways, normally I would put my own answer to the previous writing challenge here, but since last chapter's challenge was what your OC would do in Strongblade's position, and I already wrote in the chapter, I'm not writing it again. **

**Today's Writing Challenge: Fully describe one of your OCs in 1-2 paragraphs. Here are the requirements:**

**~Characteristics (1-2 sentences)~**

***Name **

***Gender**

***Age (in moons)**

**~Description (3+ sentences)~**

***Eye color (At least one adjective besides the color. For example, instead of blue eyes, write brilliant blue eyes, glowing sky-blue eyes, e.t.c.)**

***Pelt color (Again, at least one adjective besides the color.)**

***Pelt texture (ruffled, smooth, sleek, e.t.c.)**

***Height**

***Size**

***Build (Muscled, lithe, e.t.c.)**

***Cleanliness level (the average/most common)**

***Claw length**

***Tail length and type (bushy, normal, e.t.c.)**

**~Personality (3+ sentences)~**

***What they think of themselves**

***What others think of them**

***How they try to act**

***Skill level (1-10, 1 lowest 10 highest)**

***Intelligence (same as skill)**

***Spirit level (same as skill)**

***Thoughts of certain things (_ thinks water is cool, _ thinks love is complicated, e.t.c.)**

***Several likes and dislikes**

***Strengths/Skills**

***Weaknesses/Flaws (must be at least 2 or more)**

**You can also do other optional things, like scars, markings, history, e.t.c.**

**That was, once again, long, so GOODBYE!**


	4. Chapter III

**A/N: So here we are. This ****_will _****be a trilogy, by the way. No timeskip, Strongblade's POV. Thank you ShastamaeFirepool for my second review; great reply to the writing challenge, especially the ending.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_"Let all members of DreamClan come to the base of the Speaking Boulder for an annoucement!"_ The semi-familiar summons rang through Strongblade's ears. _DreamClan, Speaking Boulder, _his head echoed blankly. Behind him, the ginger-and-white she-cat shoved him up a rocky slope that lead to a large, flat, cliff-like structure that a cat—who was clearly the leader—stood on.

Strongblade whipped his head around to glare at the pusher. His breath caught in his throat as his narrowed eyes latched on to her's. The same cat whose gaze he'd met when he had fallen, those same emerald eyes . . . He heard a sharp inhalation, coming from the she-cat's mouth.

The cats were silent.

Strongblade hesitantly climbed up the stone. He didn't show his apprehension, though it tumbled around in his stomach.

_I'm glad I didn't eat today_, his brain thought wryly.

As usual, his face was an emotionless mask—only that this time, defiance and the faint hint of a challenge blazed in every ripple of his muscle. He then swung his head to look at the leader. Her green gaze was unwavering, and only then did Strongblade feel a mouse-tail unnerved.

"Our dreamdust patrol has found this cat," the leader began. "Growlingtail, Cloudsight and I have come to the decision that he may either join our Clan or leave this area."

A murmur of anticipation wormed its way through the sea of faces staring up at him and the bluish black she-cat who was their leader.

"He must choose now."

The leader looked at Strongblade, her eyes piercing into his pelt. Strongblade stared mutely back, too overwhelmed. He didn't bother to wonder what dreamdust was.

Should he accept? Then when he was shown around the territory—like some new apprentice—he could run away, with the speed of a StoneClanner. His dreams had at least helped remind him of _that _fact.

On the other side, he could just say no and find his own way out. But he'd easily get lost. _You can't let your pride make you stubborn._

Anyway, his instincts told him he should accept.

_But they've been wrong before._

_Only once, though._

_It could happen again._

Strongblade was subconsciously aware of all the cats' attentive pairs of eyes fixed on him as he had an inward struggle with himself. _Great StarClan . . ._

"I accept."

It was nerve-wrackingly amazing how two words could cause such a huge impact on everything; emotions—he had those, no matter what his steely exterior said—thoughts, the outcome . . .

"Very well. You will be shown around by Honeyshade. From now on, I name you—" the leader's imperious words were cut off by Strongblade, who took a deep breath and maintained his unfeeling role.

"Strongblade." It was a murmur, soft but insistent. _I'm not a member _yet, he reminded himself.

"What?" The she-cat looked half furious, half bemused. "What did you just say?" The last sentence took on a very small warning of a threat. Strongblade lifted his head in a slight challenging pose.

"I said, my name is Strongblade. Strongblade of StoneClan." He willed himself not to tremble.

"Very well, _Strongblade._" The emphasized name was menacing, and Strongblade couldn't help but wonder what mavolent plans she had in store for him. The leader certainly wouldn't be letting him join _that _easily.

"The meeting is over," the leader continued. "Honeyshade, stay so the newcomer knows who you are."

The cats dispersed and scattered around doing whatever Clan business they had to do. Strongblade slowly stepped down to look for "Honeyshade". He groaned inwardly as he saw who she was.

_That cat._

He _hated _her. And her leader. _And. This. Stupid. StarClan. Forsaken. Clan._

Mainly because he hated that tingling feeling in his stomach whenever he looked at her.

_And those eyes . . ._

Strongblade shook out his fur, fluffing his fur up against the chilly breeze. Leaf-fall was in the air.

"Well?" he snapped, glaring at the ginger and white she-cat; Honeyshade. "Hurry up and show me the territory." Strongblade's lip curled as her expression—confusion—showed straight on her face. _A soft one. She'll be easy to run away from._

His inference, however, turned out to be wrong as Honeyshade turned to him, her eyes hard and stony. "Not so fast. The camp first."

"Fine." Strongblade's paws itched to be moving, but he forced them to stay still. _A few moments won't matter._

"The leader of DreamClan is Nightstar," Honeyshade started, weaving among her Clanmates. Several of them cast her sympathic glances, and Strongblade's pelt pricked. Clearly, they did not want him here.

"Our nursery is in the largest cave," the she-cat continued. "We don't have any queens or kits at the moment. Nightstar's den is in a crevice in the Speaking Boulder. It's very large." Honeyshade hopped over a stray twig with perfection, and Strongblade swerved to avoid it. _Typical she-cats._

"Next, the apprentices' den is underground. The entrance is blocked by a piece of bark, but it's right here at the foot of the slope. Jaypaw and Morningpaw are training." Strongblade walked over the same slop Honeyshade had just talked about.

"Warriors sleep over there." Honeyshade faced the direction of two slabs of stones. Strongblade couldn't help but feel impressed by the mighty structure. He surveyed the rest of the camp.

"The elders' den is behind those brambles. The medicine cat—his name is Cloudsight, he treated you after you fell—stores his herbs—"

Strongblade interrupted the talkative she-cat. "—in the willow tree at the corner of the camp."

"Right!" Honeyshade looked surprised and a bit impressed. "How did you know?"

"Becuase of the stench," Strongblade retorted, wrinkling his nose for extra affect. Honeyshade turned away from him with a huff.

"Last of all, Cloudsight sleeps and treats his patients in a cave with a streamtrunking through it. I'll show you that later. Now, on to the dreamdust."

"What's so important about a few measly bits of dust?" Strongblade demanded. "Surely the territory's more important?"

Honeyshade narrowed her eyes as he mentioned the territory for the second time. "Those 'measly bits of dust' are the key to existing here in DreamClan's territory."

"The key to existing," Strongblade repeated. "And I'm supposed to believe you?"

"Well, I have a story if you don't."

"Then enlighten me."

"Well . . . Once, there was a warrior. Let's call her Dogflower." From her expression, it seemed that Dogflower wasn't really the warrior's name, and so Strongblade did not comment about it.

"She was very busy. She helped take care of her mother's second litter of kits, she went on patrol a lot, and rarely had any time to stop. So she didn't eat dreamdust for a long time. One day, no one could find Dogflower anywhere. It was as if she had dissapeared; and the strange thing was, the next day, everyone didn't do anything about it except for one cat, who passed the story down."

"Interesting. But I still don't believe you."

Honeyshade's eyes clouded, and her voice seemed to shake as she murmured, "Then see it for yourself."

Curious, Strongblade followed her as she walked past the thorns—_into the elders' den, _he remembered.

"Birdwing." He heard Honeyshade's whisper, quiet as the breeze that had passed through the camp mere moments ago.

"Birdwing . . ."

Against his will, Strongblade shivered as he saw the elder; Birdwing.

She was paler than the moon, her fur—probably once a dark yellow—plastered to her sides as if she had recently gone for a swim. Patches had fallen out here and there, revealing the pink skin underneath. Beneath the skin and fur, the elder's ribs jutted out, showing clearly. Birdwing was as skinny as a twig, and it looked as if the wind could blow her away like a leaf.

"You shouldn't be doing this, Birdwing." Honeyshade. A known voice, but an entirely separate tone. It was like the song of a bird; softer than a cloud, yet strong. As if she was talking to a kit, every syllable was pronounced slowly and deliberately, easy to comprehend.

"I have nothing to live for. You'll see me in StarClan. At night, every single on of the stars will shine, but one will be the brightest to you, and only you. That star will be me, watching you. And in the morning, I will be there in every drop of dew, surrounding you. You will neveembed alone, Honeyshade." Shock rippled through Strongblade at the elder's words. He had imagined her to rasp, barely able to take, and yet her voice was loud and clear.

"But don't you have me?" Obviously, Honeyshade had forgotten about him. Pain flashed in her eyes, making them all the more beautiful—

_Wait._

_What?_

_What in the name of StarClan did I just think?_

"Yes, yes. I have you. But you're growing up now. You'll have a mate soon, and kits." All the while they spoke, Birdwing had begun to fade more and more.

"Birdwing . . ." Honeyshade's grief pierced Strongblade like a thorn, as if he could feel it himself.

"Promise me one thing, Honeyshade."

"Anything, Birdwing. Anything."

"Promise me you won't let Nightstar control you. Promise me you won't think of her as a mother. Because she's a horrible one."

"You were more of my mother she ever was."

"I'm glade you think that. I love you, Honeyshade."

". . . . Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Honeyshade. Until tonight . . ."

"Until tonight," Honeyshade repeated. Strongblade felt a pang of sympathy for the she-cat.

"Remember. Blood does not always create families. Nightstar may share your blood, but she was never your mother."

"Blood does not always create families. Nightstar may share my blood, but she was never my mother," Honeyshade said again.

"Goodbye."

And then Birdwing closed her eyes—and vanished into the forest. Despite everything, Strongblade laid his tail on Honeyshade's shoulder. Most likely out of pure sadness, she allowed it to rest there. _And to think I said I hated her a while ago._

"Do you see now?"

"Yes. I see . . ."

"On to the territory." Honeyshade's eyes gleamed, and she turned to face him. "For everything I tell you about the territory, you tell me one thing about you."

"Wha—?"

"I'm going to Nightstar's den to alert her of Birdwing's-Birdwings's death. I suggest you have a bit of dreamdust; the pile's over there. Then we'll be off." Before Strongblade even had a chance to open his mouth, Honeyshade swiftly went to the Speaking Boulder and left him with his head spinning.

_Dreamdust. It's right . . . there. _He padded over to what looked like a heap of moss. As Strongblade came closer, he realized that there was shining little particles clinging to the moss. He pulled a piece off and tentatively licked it.

The effect was instantaneous. Strongblade felt as if he had woken up from an unusually long, warm nap in the sun, his belly full of fresh-kill. He finished and was about to sit up to wait for Honeyshade when a young gray tabby she-cat barreled into him. She looked extremely happy and hyper. As Strongblade struggled to get up—the wind had been knocked out of him—Honeyshade appeared. She groaned.

"Whoa. Morningpaw, Morningpaw, look at me—_Littletail, come here and control your daughter!_"

A small gray-and-white patched cat hurried over and shot an apologetic look at Honeyshade before pulling the crazy apprentice-kit off. "Get me some moss," she commanded. Bewildered, Strongblade couldn't to anything but obey. The she-cat hurriedly grabbed the moss and threw it over the apprentice's head. She panted in relief, and Honeyshade sighed.

"Sorry about that," the she-cat mewed. "I suppose she took too much dreamdust again."

"It's perfectly fine, Littletail," Honeyshade meowed. "Apprentices have a hard time resisting dreamdust; you know that." She shook her head warily and padded up to Strongblade. "Well, follow me."

He did as he was told. Honeyshade stopped at a giant tree. Its roots stuck out of the ground, making huge gaps.

"This is the Prey-tree. What, you thought we only ate dreamdust?" she added the last sentence as Strongblade stared at her.

"It's called that because the prey loves to hang around here. Now, tell me something about your Clan. Or you."

"Er, well . . . StoneClan has a tree called the Black Berry tree." For the first time, Strongblade was stuttering.

"Don't berries grow on bushes? Anyway, over there is the pond. There's usually frogs and the occasional bird. If you want to drink, go to the pond." Honeyshade looked at him expectantly.

"It's a long story for the Black Berry tree." Actually, it wasn't, but Strongblade was in a hurry to find the way out of DreamClan territory, especially now that he knew he needed dreamdust to survive in the territory, and he had no idea how to get any. "And in StoneClan, there's a cluster of boulders that gave us our name. It's just to look at and admire."

"Interesting."

This went on and on for a while, until Strongblade started running out of StoneClan information. "Where are the boundaries?" he asked.

"Boundaries?" Honeyshade stared at him as if he had asked what a mouse was. "There are no boundaries. No borders at all. Wherever you go, you'll still be in DreamClan territory."

* * *

**A/N: Long chapter. And plus, I nearly cried at the Birdwing part. Anyways, my response to last chapter's Writing Challenge:**

Twinkle is a 6-moon old she-cat who currently doesn't have a Clan. She has icy, clear blue eyes that shine brighter than normal in the dark. Her pelt is a beautiful dark red, and it is sleek because of the fish that she eats; however, she doesn't care much for her looks, and her fur can be ruffled. Twinkle is small for her age, but is long-limbed and would win against a rabbit if they were racing. She is also short to fit her size. Twinkle has small, short claws, but they're sharp; don't mess with her! There's normally bits of dirt in her pelt, and her pads are tough from walking in the mountains. She has several small scars from getting scraped on rocks, and a V-shaped nick at the base of her ear. Her tail is the normal, long type.

Twinkle tries to act dignified, tough, and a leader, although some cats think her attempts are funny. She thinks that she is good with retorting and comebacks, and also thinks she is clever and cunning; other cats agree with her on _that. _They also think she is hyper. She is about 7 in skills; living in the mountains makes life hard, and you have to adapt and live with it. Twinkle is also a 7 in intelligence; she needs to learn not to be so stubborn. Her spirit level is most certainly a 10. Twinkle loves water and rabbits, and won't eat any young prey. She is feisty and likes to fight, or at least argue. In Twinkle's point of view, fighting is awesome. Especially the winning part. Twinkle likes to run as well, and wander. She hates warmth and would rather go through a cold leaf-bare than a burning greenleaf, unlike most cats. She also hates bugs, though they seem to like her. Twinkle is good at hunting (and, of course, quarreling), and uses her small size as an advantage. Sometimes, though, her small size causes her to sometimes lose a fight. She does not have very much patience and stamina.

**Alright! So that was (for the third time in a row) long. Today's writing challenge:**

**Write at least one paragraph (4+ sentences) about anything. There are two rules: •Do not use pronouns ****and •Do not use the letter "e" AT ALL. This will be amusing if I get any reponses.**

**~Twinkle**


	5. Chapter IV

**A/N: No timeskip, Strongblade's POV. I'm on a roll today! I think that's it, so let's continue on to the chapter. It's a little short, but at least there's StrongXHoney fluff!**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_"What?"_ Strongblade could hardly believe his ears. "You mean you—DreamClan—own the whole place?"

"Yes, we do." Unaware of his devastation, Honeyshade sat down and curled her tail over her paws. As her answer replayed over and over again, Strongblade felt a strange sensation of _relief._

"You haven't told me the next thing for the horseplace," Honeyshade pointed out. "Go on, it's your turn."

Strongblade searched wildly in his brain, but he could not find anything else. "I've told you everything about StoneClan already."

"Then tell me about you."

Those four words—simple, yet the ones he dreaded. _Tell me about you. _That was what everyone had said, often accompanied by a "_you're good at telling tales_" or "_I know it must be hard for you to recount, but . . ._"

"It's a long story," Strongblade meowed at last, using his previous excuse. But Honeyshade was infuriatingly calm and stubborn, licking her paw and drawing it over her ear in an attempt to smooth her fur.

"I have time."

". . . ." Silence. Honeyshade waited. This she-cat was certainly not going away any time soon.

"I was an apprentice," Strongblade began. Why not? He had made an unspoken deal with Honeyshade, and although he did necessarily not want to tell a story, he was not a liar or a cheater. "I was Strongpaw then." It hurt to speak his 'paw name. He had been named by his father. _"Strongpaw," _he had said so many times, _"a good name for a strong tom like you."_ Affection had been clear in his deep, thick voice, his warm, familiar scent wreathing around him. His warm pelt, gray like Strongblade's own.

Only then did Strongblade realize he had been speaking his memories out loud, and so he continued.

"His name was Lightningcloud. He had been good friends with my mentor, Foxfang. Lightningcloud always told me stories of their adventures as young cats, from a rule-breaking venture out of the camp as kits, to their travels past the borders of their Clan in a desperate search for prey to keep StoneClan alive. I had often imagined even more stories that couldn't have been true; I told them to him anyway." Strongblade wanted to wail out loud; agony swept over his heart like the wind on the moors, and pain squeezed his insides, clenching them so hard he found it difficult to breathe. He took in a gasp of air and spoke once again.

"It was a greenleaf day; we—Lightningcloud, Foxfang, Flyingfoot and I—were going out on a patrol around sunhigh, deep into the woodlands. The woodlands, where everything was dark and murky. Where the chirping of birds could not be heard through the thick undergrowth. Where everything felt so—so _wrong, _somehow.

"It was quiet. Too quiet. I remember Lightningcloud pressing agains me, whispering to me. Telling me it was alright, that he would stay with me no matter what." _But you didn't, _Strongblade thought, anguished. _You died. You died and left me here, alone. You didn't even meet me in StarClan; did my nightmares block you, or did you hate me for letting you die? I'm sorry, Lightningcloud!_

Honeyshade had remained respectfully silent all throughout the story. Strongblade looked at her before speaking.

"There was a fox—the first one I saw, and I had sworn it would be the last, sworn that I would never let one of the beasts, russet like the color of blood—fitting, since it spilled blood wherever it went—come into the territory again. His amber eyes narrowed and his pointy snout was directed straight at me. And Lightningcloud . . . I remember him jumping in front of me. The fox slashed its claws on his chest. I knocked him over, but Lightningcloud was bleeding heavily and I turned to him.

"His eyes were still and glassy, staring up in the sky. His lips were still curled with the hatred a only a father could give to an enemy that tried to hurt his kit.

"I knew he was dead. And then . . ."

Strongblade swallowed, then mewed, "Let's just say there was an orange body on the fresh-kill pile that night. For a cost, but it was small. The fox's claws hurt my heart more than it ever could hurt my face."

Honeyshade's eyes shone with understanding. "That was how you got your scar," she whispered. Her muzzle touched the pink line that crossed Strongblade's cheek, her wet nose tickling the fur around it. He shivered as her warm breath touched his face and found himself looking into those green eyes again. What was it about Honeyshade? How did she, in less than an hour, transform him like that? The tom and the she-cat stood there looking at each other for what seemed like nine lifetimes, until Strongblade tore himself away. "You should be getting back to camp. It's dusk."

The ginger and white tabby cat ignored him. "I've always loved watching the sun set over the moor," she murmured, more to herself then Strongblade. Nevertheless, he listened.

"Ever since . . ." Honeyshade suddenly turned around, facing him with such an intensity that Strongblade stood, frozen. Hypnotized, perhaps, by the green fire in her gaze.

"My father died, too. In the jaws of a fox. Only he died alone and got eaten. And I never got my revenge." Honeyshade's claws kneaded the earth, tearing up the bright grass of the meadow they were standing on.

"You're good at storytelling, you know."

"What?"

"You're good at storytelling. The detail, the way your words flow . . ." Honeyshade looked at the ground. "I've never been able to do that."

"You can. Everyone can tell a story. You just have to feel . . . to feel happy again. To feel complete. Joyful, almost. Whether you're telling a good one, a funny one, a sorrowful one . . . you have to actually _feel _the words, to _feel _the emotion. There's always a piece of a cat's heart dedicated to tell stories. They just have to find it first. Imagination. It's all imagination, feelings, detail, and memories. That's what storytelling is."

And that was what he was doing just then—the words were tumbling out, so quickly he almost didn't register what he was saying.

"Like a puzzle," Honeyshade meowed. "The words are the pieces, and they create something new, something great. The story allows you to express yourself through hidden details"

"Exactly."

Strongblade was taken aback by the thousands and thousands of emotions on Honeyshade's face.

"Meet me a the pond at moonhigh. Promise me."

_Promise me. _Two of the last words Birdwing had said. And so Strongblade found himself accepting.

* * *

He couldn't sleep. Not because he was afraid of having the nightmares again. Strongblade was waiting for the moon to reach its highest point. Then he would see Honeyshade again. He couldn't see her ginger-and-white pelt in the warriors' den.

The tiny sliver of silver brightness was taking its time to rise. Impatience took over Strongblade, and he slunk out of the den, careful not to step on any stray tails. There was no cat on guard tonight. Strongblade found his way to the pond fairly quickly.

"Not bad for a newcomer."

The voice came out of . . . _nowhere? _It was Honeyshade's, but—

"Up here." Amusement. It rang in the two words. Strongblade spun around in circles until he saw the dark silhouette of a cat sitting on a branch of the tree Honeyshade had dubbed the "Blossom tree".

"Oh . . ." There were a lot of places to put his paws on, and so Strongblade scrambled up the tree to meet her.

"How do you like the view?" Strongblade looked down at Honeyshade's question and gasped, against his unfeeling role. The rocks lining the bank shimmered in the faint moonlight, the water reflecting the sky. Green lilypads looked like the color of Honeyshade's eyes in the pond, each one topped with a pink or purple flower. And the pond itself was indescribable. Strongblade raised his yes to Silverpelt when Honeyshade nudged him.

"Why don't we have some fun while we're at it?"

When Strongblade stared at her blankly, she laughed and jumped off the branch, landing in the pond with a huge splash, disrupting the still water. Beads of the clear liquid clung to her fur. "Come on in, Strongblade!"

"I can't swim!" he called down.

"There's no need; I can't swim either! You can just wade."

"And what if a current washes us?"

Honeyshade rolled her eyes. "For StarClan's sake, Strongblade! It's a _pond._"

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

"Then jump down, scaredy-mouse!"

"I'm not a scaredy-mouse!" With those words, Strongblade jumped down and created another splash, spraying both Honeyshade and him.

"I wish we could race."

"We can. You wouldn't win, though. I'm a StoneClanner, remember."

"I'd win," Honeyshade insisted.

"We don't we test it out instead of arguing, then?"

"Sure. Starting from the Blossom tree to those bushes." Honeyshade nodded to the dark green shrubbery.

Strongblade got out of the ice-cold water and reached the Blossom tree. "One . . ." he started.

"Two . . ."

"Three!" Honeyshade and Strongblade said it at the same time, hurrying towards the bushes. The whole world went by in a blur as his legs moved; inwards, under his belly, then out in a long stride. The pattern continued until he skidded to a halt at the finish, Honeyshade not far behind.

"See? Strongblade panted, breathless. He hadn't run for so long, and the wind in his fur felt _good. _Really, very, truly good. "I won."

"I was close, though," Honeyshade retorted.

"I suppose you were," Strongblade conceded. "I'd always be ahead, though."

"Not always." Honeyshade purred and leaned on him, her pelt still wet from the pond water. "I might be behind you now, but I'll catch up. And then you'll have someone by your side when you run. I can always keep up with you."

"Really?" Strongblade murmured, resisting the urge to rest his chin on her head.

"Really."

Something about the way Honeyshade arranged her words—so perfectly timed, carefully set, and compassionately spoken—made Strongblade want to purr like a tiny kit. He didn't.

There was only a heartbeat's hesitation before Strongblade asked, "Same time and place tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"We better go back to camp."

"Race you."

Strongblade purred and started running.

"Hey, not fair!" Honeyshade whined, but she was grinning as she ran. It took a long while, but when they were near the slope, the she-cat was actually able to catch up to him.

"Remember what I said," Honeyshade meowed simply, flicking Strongblade's chin with her tail. "I can always keep up with you."

_I can always keep up with you. _The words repeated themselves in Strongblade's head, over and over again. As he followed Honeyshade int the den, a smile formed on his lips.

It was the first one in a long time.

* * *

**A/N: So. Yeah. Kind of short, but what did you expect? I warned you. So, the reply to last chapter's writing challenge:**

That cat runs. It runs a lot. It is fast, ultra fast. It finds a unicorn. It plays with the unicorn, not knowing that the unicorn is just imagination. That cat and that unicorn run. That cat wins. That unicorn is sad, and is angry. That unicorn abandons that cat. It is on a mountain. That unicorn has an attack from hawks. That hawk thinks that unicorn is trying to kill that hawk, so that hawk runs away and finds that cat. That hawk and that cat = BFFs.

**Yup, it's horrible. And somewhat crazy. But it works; no pronouns and no "E"s. So, this chapter's writing challenge is:**

**Umm . . .**

**Write about a calm, peaceful day for one of your OCs. Decribe what happens, what the setting looks like, what the cat does, and why the cat gets a peaceful day. Use at least 10 adjectives. **

**Be glad that I gave you an easy(ish) one . . .**

**For the first time, that wasn't long! Hooray! So, anyway, GOODBYE!**

**~Twinkle**


End file.
